


Can You Be Homesick For A Place You Hate?

by Abnormal_Cleric



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Memories, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27771001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abnormal_Cleric/pseuds/Abnormal_Cleric
Summary: Bart Allen grew up under the thumb of the Reach.How long did it take him to adjust to having the freedom to take a nap?
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Can You Be Homesick For A Place You Hate?

The baseboard heater worked. The socks alone would have kept my toes from freezing, but the heater was on. It felt good. Mrs. Garrick was too nice to me. At this rate, I would be a spoiled brat by eighteen. I lay on my stomach, across the softest bed I had ever touched. My brain kept screaming at me.  _ Don’t get used to it. Don’t forget how to survive. _

I wouldn’t forget. I would just… adapt. Survival here meant something completely different. It meant trusting my friends and admitting my weaknesses. These people weren’t like the ones I knew growing up. Back there, I had to be careful. I had to keep secrets. Now, I could ask for help without somebody laughing and pushing me back down. I could cry into Nightwing’s shoulder instead of the dark corner of a bathroom stall. Even the air didn’t burn my lungs.

This was more than I had ever hoped for as a kid. I was free. The few rules I did have to follow were more for my safety than anyone’s control over me. Everything was perfect.

So… why did I want to go back there?

I turned onto my side and pulled my knees to my chest. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that the cars in the street outside were guards and enforcers. I could slip out the window and be miles away before the next one came by. I was starving and cold and the rhythmic clicking was a rat chewing on a pair of unattended boots. My own shoes were on my feet and I had my jacket around my shoulders like a blanket. There was no pillow and no mattress, so I kept my elbow under my head. The concrete floor was wet and smelled like gasoline. My clothes drank up the scent and my skin hurt from the cold. In theory, I could sleep next to someone else for warmth. In practice, my arms and chest were still purple and green from the last time I tried.

At least this was one of the better nights. I could have been crying myself to sleep again. I wanted to throw up, but I was too weak. There was nothing I could do but close my eyes and wait to die or wake up. Either way, I would be in hell.

“Bart? Are you alright?”

I sat up as slowly as I could. The room was bright and warm and the click of the heater couldn’t hurt me. The sky was blue and my jacket hung on the back of the chair. I walked across the deep carpet in my socks. My sweatpants were clean and my shirt was dry. The door was unlocked, but I left it that way on purpose. No one was going to take this from me. “I’m crash. Just... trying to take a nap.”

She smiled. Her eyes held every secret and every good intention. “After the week you’ve had, I don’t blame you. You’ve been through more than anyone your age should even think about. Stranded in the distant past with only the clothes on your back. Why do they even let children travel through time alone? The darn thing should have been tested first.”

“Yeah…”  _ It was tested. I knew what I was getting myself into. _ I didn’t look at her face. My mouth was dry and everything was blurry and hazy. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Anything for my great-grandson. If you decide you’re done with that nap, I can get you something to eat. I know how you boys are when you’re stressed.”

I tried to smile back at her, but she was already gone. I couldn’t stay in that room alone.

The kitchen was just as warm as my room if not warmer. It was February. The air smelled like the color orange. Sweet, spicy, and just a  _ little _ too strong. It was nice. Mrs. Garrick was nice. I liked her. I liked this house, this town, and this life. I had it pretty good. There was no reason to want to go back to that hell.


End file.
